


Blood, Sweat & Tears

by wordstothewisereaders



Series: Chuck's Storybook [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12x23 coda, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, DeanCas - Freeform, Death, Depression, Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 15:10:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12192330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordstothewisereaders/pseuds/wordstothewisereaders
Summary: Restless nights in heaven weren’t as glorious as they should be. What, with Chuck writing most always day and night and obnoxious older angels aggravating him, the youngest blue-eyed angel looked for an escape constantly. Thankfully, his father’s stories about the green-eyed man and his angel were always a welcoming refuge from the chaos.





	Blood, Sweat & Tears

"Daddy." 

Chuck looked up from the papers in front of him, looking over the edge of his glasses. 

"Hey, you're supposed to be sleeping, remember?" Chuck said quietly, looking down at the blue eyed baby angel in front of him. He mentally made a note to talk to his older sons the next day to keep a closer eye on their brother. Even though full grown angels didn't need sleep, the younger ones had to rest in order to gain their heavenly capacity of strength, and sometimes this one in particular was hard to handle. 

"Can't sleep." he mumbled, clutching the arm of Chuck's chair. 

"Can you try again for me?" 

His eyes grew fearful at this. It had to be the growing pains, Chuck thought. The nightmares that came with getting older of what had been and what was to come. He sighed, pushing away from his desk and picking him up. 

"Alright. What do you want to do?" Chuck asked, setting him on his knee. 

"Can you read me one of your stories? The one about the green eyed man and the angel?" THe angel asked hopefully. 

Chuck laughed to himself. The angel loved his stories. His favorite had always been Chuck's huge collection of tales about the green eyed righteous man and his angel, tackling the evils of the world together. Chuck never told him his characters' names or anything too specific out of fear of a good memory. What the blue-eyed boy didn't yet know was that they weren't just stories. They were the future.

"Which one?" Chuck asked, opening up to the table of contents of a massive leather bound book. Small hands pointed at a random chapter, pointing enthusiastically. 

"Blood, Sweat and Tears it is then." Chuck said, smiling at the entry. He was quite fond of it. "The cheap motel room door nearly cracked as the green eyed man kicked it open..."

***

Blood seeped into the dry dirt under the fallen angel whose wings had been scorched into the ground. It was silent save for the sound of waves lapping against the shore and the sporadic, quiet cries of the broken man kneeling in front of half of his entire world. 

The silence lurked eerily over the sobbing man as if to remind him of how alone fate had left him to be. Already had he lost his closest ally and his mother, but now death had decided to rip away the one being he loved more than anyone, leaving him with his brother - the only person that was ever a constant, thank God. 

The chill of the cold ground worked it's way up Dean's knees into the rest of his body as he knelt over Cas for countless hours. It didn't bother him. It was a welcome reminder of how raw his whole situation was. 

It wasn't until hours later that his brother laid a caring hand on his shoulder and forced him to get up. 

"Let's get you home, okay?" Sam asked gingerly with tears in his eyes. 

Dean nodded solemnly, closing his eyes for a moment and trying to recompose himself long enough to get back to the bunker. Numbly, he hoisted Cas' body into his arms and sat with him in the backseat. He wanted to think that the angel was just sleeping, but no amount of imagination could make him forget the truth. 

Sam drove home with Lucifer's son riding shotgun. Dean hadn't questioned his presence yet. He didn't have the strength to. What he did know that the carved shackles around the Nephilim's wrists and his reluctance to turn around in the backseat were a valid enough reason to not slit his throat right then. Sam must have been thinking clearer than his brother anyhow. 

\---

The ride home was agonizingly slow. Dean had kept his eyes shut since the halfway mark, begging his body to lose consciousness. It didn't, though, so he was left to feel the dead weight of Cas' head in his lap. 

The bunker doors had never been so inviting as Dean and his brother piled out of the car, Cas still heavy in the eldest's hands. 

"You don't have to. I can take him." Sam offered, holding out his arms. 

Dean turned away, heading for the entrance. He made a beeline straight for Cas' room, laying his body on the bed. He pulled up a chair and sat, unable to do anything else wihtout completely losing his mind. 

Once again, Sam pulled him out of his daze. 

"Shouldn't you be interrogating Lucifer's friggin' kid?" Dean barked as soon as he heard his brother's footsteps. 

"He's secure. Locked him up for later." Sam said. "C'mon, you should shower." 

"I don't want to leave him, Sammy." 

"You need to, Dean. You need to take care of yourself first." Sam pleaded as he took Dean's arm. 

"That's what got him here in the first place. I got myself out before him." Dean said, shaking his head. 

"Please, D."Sam begged, not finding it within him to argue as much as he would like to.

Something in Dean melted. Whether it was his resolve or his persistence, he didn't know. But something about his baby brother batting his eyelashes and looking so wounded had and always would have the ability to do whatever he wanted. 

Reluctantly, he made his way to the showers to try to wash off the turmoil of the day. 

\---

Hot baths hadn't helped. Comfort food hadn't helped. Beer hadn't helped. Nothing could scrub away the miserable guilt and heartache that had settled what felt like permanently in Dean's stomach. 

Sam had let him be for the past three days except for making him bathe and eat at least two meals. The rest of the time he had spent decoding the Nephilim. 

Dean had hardly moved from the chair beside Cas' bed. He felt like he had cried and drank himself to death. Nothing changed save for the expanding hole filling his chest. He just wanted it to stop.

He had screamed. He had wept. He had prayed - both to Cas and to Chuck - until he had ran out of words to say. Nevertheless, he was still left with an empty nest and a broken heart.

That third day was no different than the rest. Sam had forced a bowl of cereal into him and a hot shower, but other than that he stayed with his hand grasping Cas'. 

"I'm sorry I let you down." Dean said to the lifeless room. "I'm sorry that it's my fault that you're gone. I shouldn't have been so stupid or reckless or selfish. And I know that I'll never get to apologize as much as you deserve, and I'll never get to tell you everything that you deserved to hear. I would have been terrified to even think about this conversation before, but I guess it doesn't matter now." 

Dean took a shaky breath before continuing, "I love you, Castiel. I love you. I love you. I love you. It don't mean much now. I wish you could have known. But life's a bitch, ain't it, Cas?" 

Silent tears ran down Dean's cheek as he leaned himself against the mattress shakily. He hadn't noticed the door creeping open. 

"I-I did this?" an unfamiliar voice stuttered from the doorway. 

Dean snapped his head around to face it, wiping frantically at his face. Jack and Sam stood in front of him, a horror filled look on the Nephilim's face. 

"Yeah, kid. All you." Sam answered. 

"The hell are you doing?" Dean asked harshly. 

"Castiel...I never meant to do this. I never meant to kill the man that was supposed to raise me. I-" Jack said, terrified, as he looked at the body.

"Don't talk about him like that. Don't you ever act like he was something to you." Dean said, rising to his feet with clenched fists. 

"I didn't know. I had no idea that my existence caused such destruction." He paused under Dean's melting glare. "Please, let me fix it." 

Jack stepped towards Castiel, a reluctant hand outstretched to place on his chest. 

"Don't touch him!" Dean roared. 

"Dean," Sam said, grabbing his brother's arm before he could cause anymore damage. "Wait." 

A magnificent string of yellow light filled the space between Cas' chest and Jack's hand. The light illuminated the Nephilim's eyes, and a certainn warmth seeped into the air that wasn't there before. Just as quick as it was there, it was gone, leaving an eerie feeling in the hunters. 

"The hell did you do to him?" Dean asked defensively. 

Before the Nephilim answered, blue eyes were ever so slowly orienting themselves back to the light of day. Dean watched as the once lifeless body twitched until Cas' eyes had sprung open confusedly. 

The angel sat up, flexing his hands and feet awkardly. 

"Cas?" Dean said disbelievingly. "Cas?" 

Sam looked between Jack and Cas in utter amazement. 

"What did you do?" 

"I'm, um, I'm not really sure." Jack answered surprisedly. 

Dean bound towards Cas and into his arms immediately, pulling him into a breathtaking hug. Dean's heart was thumping hard in his chest as he felt himself really breathe since he had pulled himself off the ground three days ago.

"You're alive. Please tell me you're alive." Dean begged into Cas' trenchcoat. 

"I'm alive, Dean." 

***

"The green-eyed man didn't let his angel go for a long time, because sometimes you have to lose something before you realize how important it is. Such is love." Chuck concluded, closing the book and moving it to the side. "What'd you think?" 

Chuck looked at the tiny angel in his arms and smiled. He looked amazed with tears in his bright blue eyes. "Do the angel and the man make things okay again, Daddy?"

"Yeah, buddy, things get a lot better."

"What about Jack? Is he a bad guy?" 

"That's a good question for another day."

"Oh. I hope he's a good guy, Daddy."

Chuck felt something sinking within him. He sure hoped so, too.

"You think you can go back to bed now and let Daddy work?" 

"I think I can after one more." The little angel bargained. 

Chuck sighed, picking up the next volume, "I suppose. Gotta love a good audience."


End file.
